


After All (This Time)

by Je_Suis_Une_Pomme



Series: Trektober2020 [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, also everyone has really big emotions and they just feel them, and hurt, and then a lil bit of hope at the end because i dont write sad endings, but i said nothing about bittersweet endings, but like the pining from ten years of distance, let jim cry, they are older men with big feelings and that just has to be okay., what if there was a shared trauma between them that led to, what if they never got together and then saw each other years later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Je_Suis_Une_Pomme/pseuds/Je_Suis_Une_Pomme
Summary: “Admiral Hale,” Kirk said as he approached, a familiar amused smile played at the corner of his lips. His eyes had not drawn away from Spock, “I am grateful to the extended invite - I hope it will not be an issue…?” The query, Spock assumed, was directed at himself. He raised an eyebrow - he was not the organizer of the event, merely a participant, so such a line of questioning was outside of his ability to either confirm or deny.“Commodore?” was all that escaped his mouth. His eyes were such a startling shade of blue.15 years after the destruction of Vulcan, and more than 10 years since Jim and Spock had seen each other - torn apart by severe injury and misunderstanding.Trektober2020: Pining
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Trektober2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956967
Comments: 12
Kudos: 85
Collections: Trektober 2020





	After All (This Time)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I took "pining" and sort of stretched the term to suit my needs. Distant, 10+ year pining buried beneath tremendous hurt. Does that count? 
> 
> Anyway, I have a lot of thoughts about this story. Not sure I like how it came out, but I'm going to stop second-guessing myself and post it anyway!

The heels of his boots clicked against the stone floors, echoing down the hall like ripples in a still pool after a stone has been thrown in.

He felt like a stone, sinking. 

The heavy doors at the end of the corridor swung open to reveal the loud visual cacophony of the dress uniforms of delegates from the universe over. Old, crystal glasses gleamed under the twinkling lanterns blazing high overhead. The room spoke of opulence, grandeur, and, quite frankly, a waste of resources. 

Spock frowned and he scanned the room for familiar faces - of which he found many, though not the one he was searching for. 

A presence at his elbow materialized from the wall behind him and he turned, an eyebrow raised. 

“ _Savensu_.” T’nau raised her hand in a formal salute, matching his raised eyebrow with her own. “Your arrival is 2.34 minutes beyond the time you of prior indication,” she said. Her cinnamon eyes gave no indication that she was pleased to see him, though he knew her well enough to read the relief in the set of her jaw.

“It is unwise for the student to lecture the teacher,” he clasped his hands behind his back, “however, if you were permit me a human indulgence in the form of an excuse,” he paused waiting for her affirmative; she did not offer one, as he suspected she would not, but neither did she deny him so he continued, “I was delayed shortly after departing my quarters by Ambassador Moran. He wished to congratulate me on this evening’s achievement.” 

“An unfortunate circumstance and highly unnecessary,” T’nau said tilting her head, “the achievement has not yet been awarded.” 

“I concur.” Spock looked back towards the crowded room and stepped away from the wall, fully intending to mingle. He felt T’nau fall into step behind him, a shadow that would observe his every interaction throughout the course of the evening - learning how to navigate conversation with beings other than Vulcan. 

He made sure to greet his father and any others from the High Council that he encountered on his foray further into the room; he did not speak with them at length, instead hoping to engage with as many individuals as he could - as was expected of him. It was impossible to avoid the presence of numerous Starfleet officials. The Federation had sent several ships to commemorate the evening: the anniversary of the destruction of Vulcan, now 15 years past, and to celebrate the recent achievements of the new colony, as was now tradition. 

"I find it difficult to appreciate the illogic in an evening such as this. We have not forgotten Vulcan’s destruction and there is little merit in awarding those for simply doing what is expected of them." T'nau spoke heavily with judgement and Spock was glad he insisted in her participation this evening. 

"You would do well to remember that not all circumstances will be held to Vulcan standards," he said; she had little experience with humans outside of fleeting encounters. This was partially by her own design, but also lack of opportunity. He knew she wished to advance in a scientific career - and was considering Starfleet, perhaps purely for the abundance of resources and opportunity; however, she was inadequately prepared to submit the possibility that she would be forced to relinquish her high Vulcan standards if she was to work with any race other than her own. Tonight was excellent practice. "Humans, especially, have a propensity for emotional outbursts that must be tolerated," he did not say that she should learn to enjoy them, that would only result in a well-known argument that Vulcans cannot 'enjoy' anything. He knew his meaning was understood in the way she looked up at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"I submit myself to your experience in these matters, _Savensu_." 

"And yet you fail to see merit in an evening such as this?" 

The way her eyes darted away from his was answer enough. He felt a welling of affection for his student. He guided them through the crowd towards an inner wall, where they might be able to stand and better observe. 

"What Vulcans do not do well," he gestured towards the centre of the room, "is to appreciate the way in which emotion brings people together. Vulcan may have been the planet that was lost, and our people nearly so, but the grief is not only our own to bear." T'nau did not look convinced. "Humans are especially adept at empathy," he explained. 

T’nau looked like she would have rather preferred to argue with him in the way her eyes flashed, sweeping across the room and finding it lacking. She peeked at him and allowed a very small roll of her eyes - one of the few displays of emotion she indulged in, especially when concerning himself. Spock smiled. 

“Does this evening require engagement with Starfleet?”

“Of course,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together. Starfleet both arranged and sponsored the event each year. He wondered if his personal bias towards the organization was colouring her opinions; he would have to do better to check that. 

“Then I look forward to observing you in action.” She nodded her head and Spock turned to see two decorated gentlemen making their way towards them. The bright, knowing smile stretching over the the face he recognized to be Admiral Hale was disconcerting at best, and Spock steadied himself. He could feel his student’s eyes on him, amused and watching for any sign of discomfort she had anticipated him to display. He would not give her the satisfaction.

“Mr. Spock!” Admiral Hale was red in the face; he was clutching a flute of champagne in one hand and the other he had raised over his head, gesticulating wildly in greeting. Trailing behind him at a much more leisurely pace was Ambassador Moran, smiling serenely.

“Admiral,” Spock said as they drew closer; he inclined his head, “Ambassador, it is pleasing to see you again.”

“And you, Mr. Spock,” Moran pressed his palms together and nodded. 

“I’m glad I found you, Mr. Spock,” the Admiral huffed, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes glittering over the rim, “I wanted to personally congratulate you. I am surprised you have not been recognized sooner, you’ve been _instrumental_ in the building of the new Science Academy. But, you know what they say, better late than never!” he laughed loudly and clapped a hand on Spock’s shoulder with enough force to send him half a step to the side. 

“That is very kind of you, Admiral. Of course,” he gestured to T’nau at his side, “I could not accomplish anything without the team around me. This is my pupil, T’nau. She is completing her studies at the Academy and is considering a career in Starfleet.”

T’nau shot him a look that he was able to interpret as resignation at shining the spotlight directly on her. He ignored her and nodded, pleased, as the Admiral offered up a weak summation of the Ta’al in greeting. 

“Is that so?” the Admiral was saying, “well now, if Mr. Spock is instructing you, you must have a bright mind! What would it take to sway your decision towards the ‘Fleet and follow in your teacher’s footsteps?” 

“I had not considered the possibility of being courted for a position within the Federation’s Starfleet before my education has concluded.”

“She’s polite!” The Admiral was still looking at T’nau, but his comment was clearly directed at Spock. 

“She is Vulcan,” Spock replied. 

“A sight more Vulcan than you, eh?” The Admiral meant to jest, but Spock felt himself frown. He opened his mouth to reply when the Ambassador wisely cut in.

“What other avenues are you exploring for post graduation?” His own offered Ta’al was flawless and Spock felt his student relax minutely. 

“Continuing research or pursuing instruction at the Academy would offer me the ability to stay close to home,” T’nau looked to Spock - for affirmation or reassurance he was not sure; her eyes did not give away her current emotion.

“Both excellent options,” he said to her. 

“Have you looked into any other off-world options?” The Ambassador asked, “if you are truly hoping to follow a similar trajectory as Mr. Spock, there are several other exploratory and scientific vessels outside of Starfleet that hold high renown and are always on the hunt for bright minds to add to their ranks.” 

Admiral Hale’s grip on his drink tightened noticeably; he tipped the remaining contents down his throat.

T’nau nodded, “I have considered further pursuing a position aboard an Andorian exploratory vessel.” Spock had not been aware of this; he looked to her, unable to reign in his surprise. Her eyes flicked to him briefly, before returning to the Ambassador.

“Ah!” The Admiral rumbled, placing his empty glass on a tray held aloft by a passing waiter. “The Andorian vessels may _look_ sleek, but I promise you, nothing is quite like _our_ ships!”

“Except, perhaps, the Vulcan science vessels of old,” T’nau offered; the Admiral had the good sense to look chastised. 

“They are all currently grounded,” Spock said, “perhaps you would endeavour to lead one such back into space?” 

“Perhaps,” T’nau said without looking at him. Spock was learning much of his student this evening. Though, he considered, glancing back across the room, this was neither the time nor the place to discuss such things. 

The Admiral was suddenly vibrating with energy, his red face splitting nearly in two with the size of his nervous grin. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve invited someone that you may know - he’s not on the official guest list this evening, mind, but I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. He should be - ah, there he is! I’m trying to woo him, you see, he would make an excellent Admiral if only we could get him to keep his feet on the ground for longer than it takes to refuel a starship!” The full belly laugh was startling and Spock was not certain how he should respond. He was saved, however, from such a requirement as the crowd parted and he looked up to see - “Commodore Kirk! I’m glad you made it!”

If T’nau were looking at him now, she would notice the colour drain from Spock’s face. 

“Admiral,” Kirk said as he approached, a familiar amused smile played at the corner of his lips. His eyes had not drawn away from Spock, “I am grateful to the extended invite - I hope it will not be an issue…?” The query, Spock assumed, was directed at himself. He raised an eyebrow - he was not the organizer of the event, merely a participant, so such a line of questioning was outside of his ability to either confirm or deny. 

“Commodore?” was all that escaped his mouth. His eyes were such a startling shade of blue - he had always been aware, he had never forgotten, yet in the glittering light of the hall he was experiencing a painful reminder. 

“Hello Spock,” Kirk said, "you look well." The amused smile had melted away into a soft expression that Spock could not place. He was unsure of what his own expression could possibly be - illogically, he could not feel his face and determine for himself. He could, though, feel T’nau’s eyes boring into him like a _Sehlat_ staring down prey. Spock gripped at his cane and he did not miss the way Kirk’s eyes flicked to it, momentarily, before returning to Spock’s face; a complicated emotion was shining there in his eyes and Spock chose to ignore it.

“May I introduce my pupil, T’nau - she studies under me at the Academy and played a significant role in the success of our recent research.” His introductions were easily spoken, he had them memorized. Kirk’s eyes tore away from Spock’s in such a way that looked to have been painful. A pleasant smile spread across his face and Kirk offered a salute in greeting. Spock allowed himself a single, steadying breath the moment the attention had shifted away from him once more.

“It is lovely to make your acquaintance,” Kirk said, charming. 

“It is illogical to offer emotional platitudes when I assume you have no prior knowledge of my person,” T’nau said, holding up her own hand in response. “It is, however, pleasing to be introduced to yourself, as you are well known and have achieved much in your career. In addition, you are a previous acquaintance of my instructor and I find it intriguing to have an opportunity to meet anyone from his past.” Spock had the irrational urge to throttle her; he wrestled the feeling and maintained what he hoped was a neutral expression.

“An acquaintance?” Kirk asked, looking back to Spock, his mouth forming a shape that he recalled to be amusement. He felt his own ears grow warm. “Your instructor served with me for many years aboard the USS _Enterprise_ -”

“I am, of course, aware of this, Commodore,” T’nau said, “until you marooned him here.” 

Awkward silence descended. 

Jim - Commodore Kirk - was not supposed to be here.

Panic, the magnitude of which he had not felt for several years, crawled up his spine with sharp claws. 

Kirk had never attended any of the previous ceremonies before this. His first nonappearances must have been because his missions had kept him away; however, as the years rolled on, Spock had been forced to conclude that his absences were deliberate. The realization of this welled up an emotion that he had never been able to untangle and meditate away. It sprang forth now, choking him and he struggled to maintain steady, even breaths. 

“I apologize,” he said, his voice sounded rough and it was entirely inappropriate for the setting, “I must take my leave - the Ceremony is about to begin and I need to prepare.” He departed without waiting for a response, his cane clicking at his side as he made swiftly for the other side of the room - whichever corner was the furthest away from this interaction and this person - _Jim_. 

He had not prepared himself for the possibility of seeing his old Captain again - especially today. Had he had any form of warning, he would have spent his afternoon in deep meditation, rather than strolling through the gardens at his father’s house and partaking in light refreshment with his colleagues at the cafe only a block away from the Science Academy. He was not sufficiently equipped to handle the surge of emotions that was threatening to knock him over - pain, regret, grief, betrayal… he was not sure which was the most prevailing at the moment, perhaps all simultaneously; the grip on his cane was aching.

He was not surprised when T’nau appeared at his side minutes later.

"Are you emotionally compromised?" She asked quietly. He turned to look down at her and she met his gaze with stony resolve. "I apologize," she looked away, eyes wandering over the crowd until they found Kirk among it. "I am attempting to discern your current emotional state and ascertain how I may aid in…" She floundered and Spock tilted his head, accepting her attempt at comfort and not insisting she complete her sentence as logic would otherwise dictate. 

After a while, she said, “You are very careful with the words you choose when speaking of Starfleet.”

“I desire for you to make your own decision without the weight of my experiences,” he looked at her; her fingers were fiddling with the hem of her sleeves - a nervous habit. 

“A logical decision,” she said slowly, “But, I have found, important choices regarding which path to take are best made when weighted with the wisdom from those who traveled there before.” She looked up at him; her eyes flicked from one of his to the other, searching. “I know very little of your time in Starfleet.”

“I have told you numerous stories.” The line of conversation was confusing. Many of the lessons he had taught her, especially when she was younger, were rooted in his time in Starfleet. He had learned too much there to neglect it while instructing others. Starfleet was as much entangled in his person as his human heritage - often perceived as a disadvantage. He had once thought that T’nau saw his time in Starfleet much the same way and had been taken aback when she first began to show interest in enlisting. 

“I know of your early years and Captain Pike, yes. I do not know why you left.” 

Spock’s hand curled around the handle of his cane and he swallowed, looking back to the crowd. He could no longer see Kirk among the throng of people. 

“Yes you do.” He shifted his weight, leaning more on his cane than he had been. The ache was like a low-burning fire that spread from his ankle to his hip and he ignored it with ease that only came from years of practice. 

“No,” T’nau insisted. “I do not think that I do.” Silence fell between them when Spock neglected to launch into exposition regarding his past, and T’nau, hopefully, was aware of the thin ice she was treading upon. However, before the tension pulling his shoulders taut could loosen, she took a breath and said, “The Commodore has emotionally compromised you.” 

“He did not want me,” Spock heard himself respond, “and New Vulcan was in need of me.” He looked to see her blinking at him, head tilted to one side. “That is why I left,” he elaborated.

“The desire of one man influenced you so heavily you did not fight for the career you built your life around?” Spock had no answer. “Is that what you _desired_?” Spock observed her with narrowed eyes. T’nau was being terribly indulgent this evening, her character unlike what he knew of her. He searched her face, carefully neutral and she lifted her chin under his scrutiny. She did not find significance in personal desires - the act seen as entirely too human. Every decision she made was calculated and weighed against logic; what was wanted, especially if it differed from rational thought, had little merit. She shifted her weight. 

This conversation was not about him and his past. 

“You are concerned you are going to disappoint me,” Spock said and was not surprised when her eyes widened a fraction. “You have chosen to apply to the Andorian science vessel.”

“Yes.”

He nodded once and withdrew his attention from her. She had not sought his counsel prior to applying for such a position, so he would trust her to carry on the conversation if she wished to explore the subject further with him now. He did not disapprove - he had always encouraged her to cut her own path while living in a world where every decision was easily given to somebody else. He trusted that he had taught her how to choose wisely for herself, and to take into consideration all the options available at her disposal - of which there were many. He had seen to that himself. 

He was surprised, though, that Starfleet was not the route she had decided upon, considering their more recent conversations. 

He briefly contemplated that he was, perhaps, a little disappointed. He refused to indulge the thought further than mere consideration. He had no reason to experience an emotional reaction to her selection. He was neither responsible for her actions nor their outcome. Starfleet had been significant in his own personal growth and he had thought it would be a potential positive influence on hers as well. Perhaps he had put too much thought into what it would be like to watch her in similar circumstances and observe how she changed as a result. 

“Vulcans freely allow themselves one emotion: curiosity. Would you agree?” She broke into his thoughts. 

He turned over her question in his mind before he selected an answer. “Yes.”

“I am curious what Commodore Kirk has to say. Are you?” She fiddled with the hems of her sleeves again; her poorly disguised discomfort was distracting.

“I admit to curiosity regarding this line of conversation. If Commodore Kirk wishes to speak with me, I would be curious as to the nature of his words and would hear them.” He found the opportunity unlikely - while he would be curious as to the direction of such a hypothetical conversation, he fully intended on preventing its occurrence. 

“Then I hope you have an opportunity this evening.” 

He wondered if his thoughts were so plainly broadcasted that she was picking up on them. She continued to watch the people around them and did not meet his questioning gaze. A deliberate end to the conversation.

They stood together in silence as the room dimmed and the ceremony began. 

The Commander-in-Chief himself was present and he stepped up onto the stage, drawing all attention to him. He led the room in several minutes of silence to remember all those lost at the Battle of Vulcan. 

The proceedings carried on as they had every year previous. The Federation first observed those that displayed notable heroics in the aid of Vulcan that Was, and those that participated in the rebuilding of New Vulcan. Then, they began to commemorate recent achievements, which brought them to -

“This year, we are proud to recognize someone who served valiantly within Starfleet and continued to build a formidable career outside of it. While we were sad to lose such a brilliant mind from our ranks, it has been a great honor to observe this individual and his monumental contributions to the new Vulcan Science Academy. I had the great privilege of awarding Mr. Spock and his team this evening with the Outstanding Scientific Achievement award this evening; however, it has come to my attention that there is another in attendance here that may be better suited for such a tribute. Commodore Kirk, who served as Mr. Spock’s Captain aboard the USS _Enterprise_ during his tenure with us at Starfleet, and a great friend… I welcome you to the stage to bestow the New Vulcan Science Academy with this accolade.” 

There was a rousing cheer and Spock felt the panic rise into his throat.

“I cannot,” he said, “no.” T’nau pressed a hand to the centre of his back, pushing him towards the stage to accept the award on behalf of the Academy and his team as planned. “ _No_ ,” he repeated. He turned to T’nau, “you must accept the award on my behalf.”

“ _Savensu_ -”

He fled. 

He ignored the hush and the gasps that followed him out the door, the same way that he ignored the throb of pain that shot down his leg as he ducked out of the room. He did not allow himself to breathe again until the heavy double doors shut behind him and he was left in the comforting silence of the corridor. He continued until he was outside, breathing deeply of the humid evening air, leaning heavily on his cane.

He could not stand on that stage across from _Jim_ and accept recognition for outstanding achievement. He would not accept applause for the very thing that caused him the most grief. He would not be where he was if not for his Captain - a fact he was still bitter about.

No amount of mediation took away the pain that his Captain, _Jim_ , had brought him here and left without another word. He had been abandoned when the need for his friend had been at its greatest peak. Suffering a debilitating injury, he would not deny that his heart had broken when he opened his eyes to the sterile walls of a Vulcan hospital, alone. His heart had broken that Jim had been the one that had done it. The one person he had trusted to keep his heart safe. 

He sat and looked to the stars. 

He had traversed them, once. He had known what it was to soar among them, to explore what lay hidden in the darkness between them. His heart pulled and he longed to be there again, in the pressing, deadly silence that had a way of wrapping around him like something comforting. He missed the feeling of a ship purring beneath his feet, the feeling of cool transparent aluminum beneath his fingers, the only barrier between him and the freezing expanse that beckoned like a siren. He missed the unknown - finding it, examining it, learning to understand it. He missed the unlikely friends and the family he had come to know. There were few on New Vulcan that understood any of these feelings, and any who had tasted them had packed them away with strict meditation and gave no indication that they were suffering the loss the way he was.

Under normal circumstances, this loss was easily soothed. He would take it out in the comfort of a calm mind, inspect it, appreciate it for what it was, then file it away for later. Now, he was thrown off balance. The arrival of his Captain had brought forth these things, not in the carefully measured way he normally handled them, but with the force of an avalanche - sweeping and crushing and without warning. 

“Hi.”

Spock jerked back to awareness. 

Jim sauntered towards him, holding out a shining, glass and golden plaque in one hand, the other was stuffed into his starched uniform pocket. He came to stand next to Spock, leaning on the garden wall and he held the award out for Spock to take. 

“Congratulations.” The sentiment was said softly and offered too easily, like it was expected. It was not expected. Prior to this evening, the last words that Jim had spoken to him had been a curse. These tender tidings felt out of place in comparison. 

“This award does not belong to myself, but to my entire team.” Spock accepted it, even though he felt he no longer wanted it. He would have preferred for T’nau to take ownership of the thing - to share it with the rest of his team so he did not have to look at it and be reminded of his past. 

“Still as humble as ever, I see.” Jim’s voice sounded like a smile and Spock had nothing with which to respond.

It was strange not knowing what to say to a man with whom he had previously shared everything. Jim’s uniform was pressed according to regulation, his buttons shining and his boots polished. He looked the part of a Commodore. He was much the same as Spock remembered, yet changed. The corners of his mouth and eyes were lined, his posture was more poised and less relaxed and nonchalant, though the easy openness of him remained. Even now he looked friendly, approachable, and his expression held an easy affection that Spock had never understood nor been able to replicate when attempting to soften his own edges. He no longer tried.

His right hand was badly scarred.

His dreams were often occupied by heat and flames licking up his body. 

His mind echoed the sound of the shot, aimed for his Captain, and tearing through him with a sickening crunch. His body remembered the blinding hot pain that ripped him away from coherency. And even through that, his vision tunneled to Jim still in danger, and with the last ounce of strength he could muster, they traded places. 

The decision to save his Captain’s life at the risk of his own had been understood the moment he made it. He had assumed that he would simply cease to be. If he had known the results would be the life he now led, he often wondered if he would have so readily leapt into the flames. That split second moment had taken everything away from him. His home, his family, and Jim. He had survived that day, though his medical file would report that as ‘barely’, and the cost had been higher than he had considered possible.

He had assumed he would be lost; he would be consumed by the fire. He had resigned himself to it, satisfied that his Captain, Jim, remained standing. He had fulfilled his duty. 

But, Jim had never been one to follow the script inside Spock’s mind. He broke the carefully constructed character he had made of him and dove right into the danger Spock had just saved him from. 

His memory was fuzzy, though he could remember Jim’s voice calling, swearing, and his hand reaching and pulling him into the blackness of space. 

The next thing he knew was the white walls of a hospital. There was no one sitting at his bedside, no well wishers, and no _Enterprise_ waiting for his return. 

"I clearly remember you pulling me from the fire," he announced for lack of anything else to say. He did not remember whatever happened between his presumed demise and his awakening. The only one who could fill in that gap was standing next to him.

"Jeez - gonna jump right into it, are we?" Jim shifted away from the wall, turning to face Spock and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Commodore?"

“No," Jim’s eyes fluttered shut, "I’m not having this conversation with you if you insist on hiding behind my rank.”

Something heavy dropped into his insides and ignited a flame that licked up into his chest. The feeling rushed into his elbows and behind his knees; he struggled to control the tremor in his hands, so he clasped them at the small of his back, squeezing his fingertips into his palms. 

“What is it you would have me call you?” His voice held steady and he kept his eyes trained straight ahead. 

“My name, Spock.” Jim stepped into his light of sight. “We are not unfamiliar with each other.”

“Perhaps once, but not any longer,” he bit back. He did not know this man standing before him, and he had no right to claim to know Spock. The years stretching between them were too great to surmount in a single evening accompanied by the passing of a superficial award between their hands. And yet, he wished for the distance to stitch back together so they could be as they once were. 

Even after all this time Jim still had the ability to drag out the emotionalism he fought so hard to contain. Shame settled over him like an old friend.

“You were my greatest ally and my best friend, Spock.” Jim had always been both of those things to Spock and more.

He hid his scowl by turning his head away. 

“Don't hide your emotions - not from me.” Spock attempted to refuse, but he never could deny any request that came from his Captain. “You clearly wanted to talk about this, Spock, so let’s have it.”

“You wish to see how I am truly feeling?” He whirled to face him, “I am furious with you, _Jim_.” He spat his name like a curse. He allowed his mouth to twist in the ugly way he felt while confronted with this. This was not the monster he had planned to fight tonight, but it seemed he was not to be given the choice. Still as tenacious as ever, James Kirk would receive what he asked for. He had been angry for too many years to be strong enough to continue to contain it when backed into a corner. 

“Why are you-” the audacity to even begin to utter such a question only infuriated Spock further. He slammed the foot of his cane into the ground and took satisfaction in the way Jim’s eyes were drawn immediately there, wide in shock. 

“You do not get to come here and act like nothing has changed between us, as if no time has passed at all.” Spock punctuated his sentence with another hard tap of his cane. His own gaze fell to Jim’s scarred hand, curled into a fist and hanging at his side. “I am not certain what it is you hope to gain by approaching me, but I guarantee you will not find it here. You should not have come this evening.”

The _Enterprise_ had left him on New Vulcan. He had resigned his post and learned to live again. He served his people to the best of his ability, built himself a life with the scraps he picked up along the way. He clawed his way up from nothing and he had done it alone.

His old crewmates had reached out to him on occasion, a brief holomessage or note sent his way when they remembered - but it wasn’t the same. They looked at him with sickening sympathy and asked after the injury he wished to hide. His body had survived the flames, but who he had been before had left with the _Enterprise_ , and what little remained had burned away. There was less pain in letting those lines fall silent; he did not want to hear about the stars if he could not be among them. He did not want to hear how their lives moved on to places he could not follow. He did not want to hear how well Jim was doing without him.

“I’m not looking for anything, Spock. I just wanted to see-”

“To see how well I am holding up? As you can see,” he held up his plaque and shook it in front of Jim’s face, “I am doing sufficiently.”

“I’m glad,” Jim attempted, his brows were pinched together and he was frowning. It was not an expression that suited him; the lines of his face were made by laughter and this looked wrong on him. “I’m glad you’ve succeeded here.” It was painful to hear the sincerity in his voice. 

“That is what you had intended, is it not?” Spock desired very much to throw his award to the ground. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked several paces away so he could set it down on a low garden bench between two blooming sage bushes. He settled next to it, leaning his cane on one side and folding his hands in his lap. Jim wandered over, stuffing both hands into his uniform pockets and kicking at the dirt between them. He remained standing. 

“I had hoped that you would find happiness, Spock.” Jim murmured.

“You have an odd way of wishing your friends well.” 

“What?” His head snapped up, brows drawn impossibly closer together. 

“Do you abandon all those you claim to care about when they become useless to you?” Spock gestured towards his leg. He wanted to add that Jim had done the very thing he was afraid of most, like twisting a knife, but he was distracted by Jim collapsing to his knees in front of him. 

“Spock,” Jim’s voice cracked at the edges. He reached a hand towards Spock, like he would place it on his cheek, but Spock flinched away. “Spock.” He said again, more firmly. “I didn’t - is that what you believe? That I _abandoned_ you?” 

“It is a fact,” his voice held the venom that had poisoned his mind since his injury had been inflicted. 

“I could not-” Jim choked, “I could not _risk_ you, Spock. You almost _died_.” 

"So you brought me, unconscious, to New Vulcan and _left_?" It still made as little sense to him now as it had when it happened. He had many years to think about it, to follow Jim's career without him by his side, until that was too painful to watch from the sidelines. 

" _Yes_ ," Jim reached for him again and did not give Spock the choice to deny him. Warm hands closed over his wrists, careful to avoid direct skin contact, and were drawn to the space between them. "Because you never would have agreed to come here." Spock found it ironic that that was precisely why he was so angry. He would not have chosen such a path for himself. "But Bones didn't know how to help you. My only choices were to bring you here to see a Vulcan healer or risk losing you all together. With your injury, even if you had survived, we weren't equipped to help you heal. It wouldn't-" Spock wrenched his hands free and stood. 

"You had no right to make such a decision for the direction of my life." He had made his choice when he had stood in the flames instead of Jim. It was Jim’s fault that he had not fled to safety, that the rift between them had grown too wide to see one side from the other. It wasn’t even the first time that Jim should have left him. 

Jim's head dropped, hanging between his shoulders. He sagged. 

"You're right," he whispered to the ground. "You're right, and it was selfish of me. But, dammit Spock, even if everything had gone perfectly, I knew you wouldn't be able to promise me that it wouldn't happen again." 

"All those enlisted in Starfleet understand the risks. It was my decision and my _duty_ to protect you." Hypocritical! Spock wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake. He had wanted to demand the same promise be made by Jim, once. He had been on the other side of this exact argument! 

"And it wasn't also mine to keep you safe?!" His head snapped up, his eyes flashing with an anger Spock could not recall was ever directed at him before. "I would not have been able to live with myself if you had died that day, Spock!" 

"You-" 

"No," Jim rose to his feet, shaking, "you don't get the last word in this. Not this time. This isn’t all on me - _you_ chose not to come back when you were better.” His eyes fell to Spock’s leg then just as quickly climbed back to his face. He swallowed audibly. “I was in _love_ with you, Spock. All I cared about was knowing that you were going to be okay. I know I hurt you by not being able to be there when you woke up, but at least you were alive and safe. I would not have survived any other outcome." 

"If you truly loved me, you would have stayed." Somewhere in the back of his mind he was reminded that Jim once told him that love sometimes expressed itself as sacrifice. He did not care that _he_ had been sacrificed in the name of it.

"Don't you think I didn't try?! Come on, Spock. Surely you know that I sat at your side until they threatened me with a court-martial. I tried to remain on planet, but it was either take off again or lose the ship. That, and the Healers wouldn't even let me see you. I threatened war on New Vulcan, but in the end they still won because I didn’t fight hard enough and I've had to live with that regret ever since. I have to live with myself," he thumped his chest, "that I let them take you away from me because I was too scared of the way I felt about you."

Spock felt his mouth hanging open and he snapped it shut. Jim's breath was coming out in quick, heaving gasps and he clutched at his chest like a lifeline. 

His anger bled out of the old wounds, reopened to reveal the festering rot inside. That, too, began to evaporate, leaving only a dull ache behind. Perhaps now, after all this time, it could finally begin to heal. 

Surely Jim had been aware of the depth of his regard? How deeply his emotions ran when it came to his Captain? Surely he knew why he indulged every flight of fancy, every innocuous request, bent to every pseudo-command - and gladly? Surely he had seen the way Spock looked at him, had noticed how he lingered in his Captain’s presence, how he sought it out?

“I longed for you every day we spent together," he heard himself admit, "and every day since. The feeling has never departed, no matter how much I attempt to free myself of it.”

Jim looked at him like he had said something unbelievable. His eyes were as wide as starship saucers and his breathing stuttered, caught in his throat, then whooshed out with a gasp. He laughed, but the sound was without humour.

"How can love…" he shook his head, searching for his words. Spock was patient. "I've caused you so much pain, when that was what I wanted to avoid the most. I was trying to _protect_ you from _me_. Without me, you are safe and able to pursue the life you deserve."

Jim rarely cried, and Spock had never before seen it look like this. 

Jim had been emotional and distraught in the past, but he had always maintained the ability to wrangle his feelings back into submission with strict control, so much so that a Vulcan would have observed the effort with admiration. Spock was not sure what to do in the face of _this_. Jim's shoulders shook with the force of it, his face was wet with tears that rolled down his cheeks and clung to the angle of his jaw. Jim also seemed to be at a loss of what to do. His hands had dropped to his sides and hung limply. He was staring into the middle distance, making no move to either suppress or resolve his outburst. Perhaps this was catharsis to Jim. 

The space between them shuddered and filled with the wet sounds of gasping breaths. Something in Spock’s throat squeezed and he blinked rapidly, turning his face upwards until the sensation passed. The moon was not quite full and it bathed the gardens in a creamy light that would have been lovely had the mood been different. Twinkling lights strung between bushes and young trees flickered on as the last light of the sun settled beneath the horizon. Distantly, Spock could hear the gurgle of a fountain; leaves rustled in a breeze he hardly noticed. 

Finally, "I am so sorry," Jim said between wracking sobs, "I am so sorry, Spock." 

Uncertain, Spock reached forwards and gathered Jim into his arms. He sniffled into the hollow of Spock’s shoulder, breathing in deep, shaking breaths, attempting to regain control of himself. It took several tries before the hiccuping slowed and the tremors ceased. Spock did not let go. 

“I thought you no longer wanted me,” he said into the crown of Jim’s head.

Jim’s arms snaked around his middle and hugged tightly. 

“I thought _you_ didn’t want _me_ ,” Jim’s voice was muffled, his breath hot and damp as he spoke into Spock’s shoulder. “I held your hand and spoke to you every day - but the Healers told me that I was negatively impacting your recovery. I wasn’t sure I believed them, but they insisted my presence was unrequired and unnecessary. I-” the shaking returned and Spock found himself squeezing his arms tightly in response. “It seemed the further away I went, the faster you got better. So I left.” 

“James,” Spock pulled away. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but he looked at Jim’s watery, too-blue eyes and was overwhelmed by grief. Grief for what had been lost all of those years ago - what could have been and what wasn’t now. It was illogical to allow a mind to linger on what-if’s, but he found he could not help but consider what shape their lives would have taken had circumstances been changed. _What if things had been different?_

Jim’s hands found their way to either side of Spock’s face and they held him like he was something precious - like he was _wanted_.

“I never stopped being in love with you, Spock.” 

Spock closed his eyes. After all this time, underneath it all, he felt the same.

He sacrificed himself so Jim would survive, he had been left reeling, and he had drowned in what was left. He supposed, after time, he could come to understand all that filled the gaps in his broken narrative. He wasn’t sure he was ready just yet, but the wounds no longer felt like they were going to eat him alive. 

The press of lips to his own was almost expected. He kept his eyes closed. He did not lean into the pressure, but he did bring his hands to rest over Jim’s. He could feel the spark of a consciousness through his fingertips that had once been nearly as familiar as his own. Flashes of emotions burst like phaserfire in the forefront of his mind. 

Guilt, grief, and a tiny seed of hope that was there, nearly crushed, but straining to push through.

For the first time, he was unafraid of tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on Tumblr: une-pomm3  
> Or on Twitter: @unepomm3


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